And So I'm Holdin' On
by Victory32
Summary: Tag to 4.22, Sam and Dean trying to sort through the hours that follow. Follows lyrics to Lifehouses Broken.


_Disclaimer: I do not and never will own Supernatural or any of the characters associated with it. Not that it would be bad if I did..._

_Summary: Tag to 4.22, Sam and Dean trying to sort through the hours that follow. Follows lyrics to Lifehouses Broken. _

_This would be my first fanfic... just figured I'd give it a shot so any feedback would be appreciated! Thanks!_

_The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight  
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time  
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts  
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out_

In a blur of hours following the worst night of his life Sam could vaguely remember Dean dragging him from the convent. Screaming, pushing him into the car and slamming the gear into drive so fast he hadn't even known they were moving the first ten minutes of the ride. They'd driven for what felt like forever before Sam finally had the courage to tell Dean about the body in the trunk. Even as he told him, he couldn't look at him. Didn't want to risk seeing the shame and disappointment reflect back in his brothers eyes. He just stated the few facts that were there, _she was possessed, I killed her, you're right I'm a monster, and I'm so sorry I don't know how to fix anything._

Dean had said nothing through the entire story, the silence in the car almost deafening as they pulled over. And even though Sam hadn't expected it Dean had helped dig the grave, said a prayer for the young woman buried below and rushed Sam back to the impala as quickly as he could.

_I'll do whatever it takes to fix this mess. I know you don't believe me, and God you really don't have any reason to, but I swear whatever it takes I'll do it. _If he could only bring himself to say the words, to spit them out there, let them be heard and let his brother know… Instead he sat unmoving and afraid. Jaw clenched, eyes straight ahead, he didn't move-- didn't flinch as the miles drug on, unwilling to fall apart. Unwilling to feel. Feelings mean only pain and Sam can't stomach anymore of that at the moment.

_I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain is there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
I'm barely holdin' on to you_

Looking out into the dark of the moonless summer sky Sam swallows hard and closes his eyes. _God, he feels like his heart is breaking into a million pieces._ Just falling to the ground… _ashes to ashes, dust to dust…_ There is simply nothing left for him to do. Nothing he could even bring himself to say, even if he wanted to. He was too tired, too scared, too damn shattered to keep his head up. Sitting on the old wooden porch in front of Bobby's house Sam cradles his head in his hands and tries to think of times past that can bring him any sense of what he used to be. Back before he willingly started down the path to hell all by himself. Eyes clamped shut he's afraid to let in any light, he's not even sure he should be allowed to breathe, let alone see. Choking back a cry that refuses to be stifled he feels the hot sting of tears running down his face and he doesn't bother to wipe them away, because he knows there's no point anymore, _things are never going to be the same_.

Dean keeps his silence, leaning his head against the old wooden door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. In twenty six years he has never failed quite like he has this time. On a scale of one to ten he's pegged the needle well past one hundred. It was his job, the only real job he's ever actually had to watch out for and protect his little brother.

And yet, he knows, this past eight months was nothing short of one futile attempt after another. He hadn't _really tried_, hadn't really wanted to know the pain Sam was carrying around. The pain he'd inadvertently caused Sam when he made his deal. When he'd left Sam all alone to fend for himself. Selfish as the deal had been, he'd do it all over again. What was that saying, oh yeah; the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Hell he was just as lost as Sam had been when he'd found himself topside again. All he'd wanted was some time to straighten out his own fucked up existence before trying to help Sam. He needed some time to think, to really figure out what role he was playing in this never ending battle for his soul. He'd never really gotten the chance though. Almost in spite he had turned his back on Sam, pushed him away, he'd just needed a bit more time, _was that too damn much to ask_?

Scrubbing a hand across his neck he feels his chest tighten and he refocuses his gaze back on Sammy. Sam had made it perfectly clear where he stood upon his miraculous return. _It's great to have you back Dean, but I don't need you anymore. _ And even if those words had never really been spoken, it was out there, hanging in the thickness of the night air ever since that first night he'd come back.

As time passed, he'd never really worked through anything, never given his brother the chance to do the same. And so on they went. Growing further and further apart, intentionally stabbing each other with verbal daggers and maybe even a few real ones as the day's drug on.

_The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head  
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead  
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes  
That are looking for a purpose, they're still looking for life_

Sam's eyes turn up as he hears Dean clear his throat and the screen door _thunks_ against the door frame. His hazel eyes searching upward for forgiveness that he knows Dean can't quite give. Sucking in the stale night air the hurt in his chest feels like a thousand daggers stabbing him from every direction.

Dean sighs as he sits, almost shoulder to shoulder with Sam, but enough of a space they weren't actually touching. He doesn't speak as he looks over at his kid brother. Sam isn't hurt, not physically anyway, at least he can breathe easy about one thing. But now Sam's patented puppy dog look is piercing through him, carving into his very soul. No matter how much he wants to he can't reach out to his little brother and he curses himself. Dean can't help but feel tense, those same sad loving eyes are the same eyes he'd seen black as night not long ago. And he feels sick to his stomach as he realizes that what Sam really wants-- what he really needs was something he isn't able to offer.

Silence pursues them in the coming minutes until Sam chokes on another sob escaping his throat. Forcing himself to his feet only to stumble down the wooden stairs he falls to his knees. Dean watches without a sound as Sam wretches in the yard until there was nothing in his stomach and his head is hung defeat.

Sam doesn't want to move. He's praying right then and there that he would be lucky enough to just die, no more pathetic existence for him to screw up, no more hurt, and no more pain, just death. Cold unfeeling death. Not that Heaven would take him, he doesn't deserve that anyway. But he can't honestly take another round with Dean. Not the way they've been going at each other over the past few months. The disappointment, the anger, it was far from over.

"_Sammy…"_ The word stings both hunters' senses. Dean lets his voice trail off as he extends his hand to his brother, it has been awhile since he has actually said that name with so much raw emotion behind it. Sam's looking up him eyes wide, and Dean isn't sure that Sam will actually take his offer. _"Come on Sam." _ His voice is low and on the verge of shaking, almost begging. The words making Sam paranoid to the point that he doesn't want to reach up,_ this is just the calm before the storm,_ he tells himself, _he's never gonna forgive you for this. _

Seconds that feel like eternity pass before Sam reluctantly reaches out and allows himself to be pulled back to his feet. His gaze never leaving his brothers. As they take up their respective seats on the porch one more time Sam wipes his face and at long last speaks, "You promised dad, you promised him Dean... You should have just killed me…"

A long silence comes before Sam hears any response. Looking over at his brother he watches the tears fall from Dean's eyes, "No Sam," Dean begins his voice barely above a whisper, "I was never going to kill you. I was supposed to save you."

_  
I'm hangin' on another day  
Just to see what you will throw my way  
And I'm hanging on to the words you say  
You said that I will, I'll be ok_

There's too much to say, and not enough time in the world to say it, so Sam finally settles for the one thing he's gotten so good at saying in the past few years. "I'm sorry Dean. _I'm sorry_."

Dean lifts his eyes toward the stars and stares. He's not sure what praying has ever been good for, because he's pretty sure Gods not listening, especially now. But he has to try. He's begging for Sammy's forgiveness, asking for his own. He's desperate.

A sideways glance at his little brother and he knows that even if he never forgets the events of the last year and even if no one else will --he is capable of forgiving Sam.

Sam is still half strung out, eyes red and never ending tears flowing down his face, he still can't piece together the past 24 hours. It's still too scrambled in too many pieces and he doesn't even have a clue where to start. As sure as the day he had convinced himself that he didn't need Dean, he wants him back.

Taking a deep breath in Dean bites at his lower lip and wraps his arm around Sam. At first Sam pulls away but Dean doesn't really care his grip only tightens and he pulls Sam into his chest. He's thankful when Sam relinquishes any tension in his body and falls willingly into Dean. It's been years since Dean just sat like this with his little brother; it reminds him of times he'd spent trying to convince Sammy that the monsters in his closet weren't real, or that everything would be fine when dad got home. But tonight it's a whole new feeling, and chick flick moments aside they both really need this.

"It'll be okay Sammy." Dean whispers, "We'll figure this out."

Sam doesn't think it's ever really going to be _okay_, but he'll take what he can get.

_The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
I may have lost my way now, haven't forgotten my way home_

Alone. He hadn't really ever been alone since Dean had come back from the dead. Hadn't really been alone when Dean was in Hell either, but in retrospect Sam knows that's exactly what he was. _Alone. _

Sitting here on the porch steps he looks over at his brother and it's as if he can see him clearly for the first time in a long time. This is his big brother. He's idolized Dean since before he can even remember, wanted to be him, and knows he's going to do everything in his power to gain Deans trust back.

Dean smiles half heartedly at him, his eyes still heavy and sad as he offers Sam a beer and sighs. But a hint of the Dean he'd known all those years ago comes out in a low voice as he raising his the long neck bottle in his hand, "Here's to sinners like us Sam."

And for the first time in a long time ,despite the pain that still simmers underneath, Sam knows he isn't alone anymore.


End file.
